


In the Gap

by Belle_Evans



Category: due South
Genre: Community: lgbtfest, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:45:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3983743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belle_Evans/pseuds/Belle_Evans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray's family has disowned him for his relationship with Benny and he claims that it doesn't matter....but Benny knows better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Gap

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted five years ago this month for the LGBT Fest on LJ.

Benton Fraser woke up sore and alone. The soreness was expected. Ray Vecchio, the man he loved deeply, his mate had come home the night before, randy. Stretching, Benton savored the aches and twinges from the well use of his body. All these hours later, what they had done still made him blush hotly. What they had done would usually have made Ray a sleepy, heavy lump sprawled over him. Skin to skin. Alone was a surprise. The surprise, Benton thought was what had kept him distracted, initially from the sound of the lawnmower shush, shushing over grass. It consciously registered and had been the thing to awaken him. The sound provided the second surprise of the morning.

Three years ago when they bought the house, they'd agreed to alternate household chores, but that hadn't worked with the cooking or the yard work. Ray complained that everything Benton cooked tasted like k-rations or pemmican. He also complained about the damage grass stains did to his clothes, even though he had a separate wardrobe specifically for yard work. The stains were nothing to Benton. He enjoyed the sun on his skin and the opportunity to share with the neighbors his thoughts on the best organic fertilizers. Anything having to do with the yard was his domain.The novelty of the shushing was enough to rouse him fully from sleep.

Through the blinds of the bedroom window, he watched Ray push the mower around like it had committed a felony. He spent a few additional minutes trying to imagine what could have happened between the time they went to bed and the display in their backyard. A phone call from Welsh might have triggered the uncharacteristic bout of mowing, but Benton couldn't recall hearing the phone ring or a knock at the door. He had indeed been soundly asleep. Were it not for the oddity of the lawnmower at that hour, he suspected that he would probably still be enjoying well earned slumber.

The scent of sweat and spunk clung to his skin. He desperately needed a shower, but was disinclined to take his eyes off Ray without a better idea of what had happened while he was sleeping. Gazing through the blinds, he watched Ray strip off his as yet ungrass stained, bright white t-shirt. The play of his muscles as he continued to shove the mower between the boundaries of the fence that marked their yard aroused Benton in the way they always did. 

His feelings for Ray were profound. Mind and body. There was no part of Ray Vecchio he didn't want. No part of him he hadn't had right from that first night Ray invited him to have dinner with his family.

Diefenbaker sat at the edge of the yard watching as well. He'd expected that Diefenbaker would still be in the kitchen eating whatever inappropriate thing Ray had put in his dish. Probably bacon. In spite of their yearly excursions to the Northwest Territories, American suburban life continued to make Diefenbaker indolent . He'd often admonished Ray against it, but as of yet hadn't made any inroads in getting his other half to stop feeding the wolf under the table.

He sniffed the air. It was absent the tell tale smell of frying pork, though it was possible Ray had given the wolf bacon outside before beginning the yard work. It would explain the wolf's attentiveness, as like Ray, he was not customarily fond of that chore either.

Benton was tempted to open the window, but he didn't want Ray to know yet that he was awake. Diefenbaker's presence, even if it was the result of a bacon bribe, eased a little bit of his apprehension. With Diefenbaker watching, he concluded it was probably fine for him to take a quick shower. He suspected he would need to be sharp for whatever had Ray in such a state. 

******

The kitchen was untouched. No bacon or donut crumbs or dirty dishes. Nothing to indicate breakfast. Since cleaning the kitchen was Ray's second least favorite thing to do, Benton realized that not only was the lawn being mowed within an inch of its life, but Ray was doing it on an empty stomach. "Oh dear," Benton said to the emptiness.

 

The sole thing in the kitchen that seemed as usual was the newspaper folded on the table. He hadn't paid much attention to it initially because Ray read the Sports section in the morning while he ate. He reached for the paper and found that it wasn't open to the Sports section at all.

As he scanned the page, anger flashed through Benton the way it did in the face of injustice and hypocrisy. And then it lodged in the center of his chest on Ray's behalf. On his own behalf. He wadded the Chicago Tribune and shoved it into the bottom of the compost bin under the kitchen sink.

The galling part of course Benton thought as he yanked open the refrigerator to retrieve the eggs, it was Ray who wanted to be honest, to tell everything. Right from the beginning.

He'd said to him, "You're not the kind of guy someone hides in the closet Benny." At the time, Benton had been naked and straddled, thus wholly unable to mount a coherent argument against Ray's assertion.

They had disagreements like any couple, now, but they were able to resolve them fairly quickly. The nature of their jobs, an ever present reminder to them not to let things fester or exceed proportion. But three years ago, once Benton had gotten himself properly dressed, no longer pinned to his bed by strong thighs and wicked hands there had been a disagreement, that spilled into a fight that lasted almost an entire month. They couldn't come to complete agreement on when to tell about the change in their relationship from friends to lovers.

They had managed to agree it probably wouldn't be wise for Ray to tell Francesca first if he wanted any chance to tell the rest of the Vecchio family on his own terms. Ray suggested Sunday dinner would be the perfect time. Benton thought Sunday dinner would be too overwhelming and perhaps unfair to his mother. They both agreed that it was a good idea to tell his mother first.

Ray had wanted to do it immediately. Benton hadn't shared Ray's certainty that his family would not raise any objections. He'd pointed out that Francesca's enthusiastic attentions toward him made it likely that she would not take the news well. He'd thought it might be better to wait until Francesca had turned her attentions elsewhere. However long that took.

 

Ray insisted, somewhat myopically Benton thought, that his 'Ma' loved him, adored the Mountie. He insisted she would whip everyone in line if it was necessary. But everything in Ray's demeanor then told Benton that he believed his family would take the news well. It had moved Benton deeply that Ray let his customary cynicism go in favor of not keeping their relationship a secret. But, he believed his own feelings for Ray made him see the Vecchio family more clearly. He hadn't been able to give in to Ray's desire to tell sooner rather than later, much later and that had created distance between them.

They were still able to work together, but instead of staying with Benton the two nights a week he usually managed, Ray went to his own home.

 

The Lenny Mlano case eradicated that distance. There had been a moment when Francesca was trying to find the car keys when he thought he wouldn't be able to get Ray out of the the locked trunk of the submerged car in time. A thin tendril of panic tried to wrap itself around the control he'd needed to maintain in order to save his partner's life. All those things rolled together to create their own momentum. When he proved successful in rescuing Ray, he'd had no choice really, but to kiss the other man, soundly, in front of his sister. A kiss that was returned just as fervently.

It turned out they hadn't had to worry about Francesca finding out first. She said nothing to the rest of the Vecchio family. That was the last night Francesca ever spoke to either of them.

The sibling silence did afford Ray the opportunity to tell his mother on his own, formally. When she asked him to go to confession and seek the counsel of their priest, Ray had explained that it would not make any difference in the place the Mountie had in his life. She'd told him that he had disappointed her more than his father ever had.

And though Ray was most certainly an adult and it was his story to tell, he had not objected when his mother told him he was not to speak to the rest of the family about their conversation. He could return to the bosom of the family when he both agreed to accept help in overcoming his attraction and removed the Mountie from his life. She further explained that she would tell the others about Ray's defection from the family.

Later when Ray met him at his apartment as they had agreed beforehand and recounted the details of the conversation with his mother, Benton hadn't been entirely surprised by the particulars. He had however been stunned at Ray's unfettered optimism that his mother's rigid stance would change without him meeting her conditions.

"It was a shock Benny. I was married so... I get that. But once it sinks in... I mean, come on who doesn't want a Mountie in the family?"

Benton refrained from pointing out that Francesca seemed to have demonstrated quite clearly that she was no longer interested in having a Mountie in the family. That night, when Ray started shaking in his sleep, without waking him, Benton gathered him in arms. Held onto him as tightly as he could without breaking bones.

 

Though his grandparents had done their best, Benton's childhood was solitary. His expectations for his adult life had been for more of the same. There was no anticipation or expectation that he would ever have more than his work. Even Diefenbaker had been a surprise. He hadn't been a virgin before Ray, Vecchio, but Ray Vecchio was his first and last relationship.

He didn't know what it was like to be surrounded by family so he had never felt the lack. Frankly, the Vecchio family had always thrown him off balance with their boisterousness and passion. Ray was the only Vecchio he wanted. He had him. The fact that he woke almost every morning beside Ray Vecchio was the best thing that had ever happened to him. So, he didn't feel the absence of the others as sharply, but he did feel Ray's pain, keenly. Pain, Ray had never acknowledged. 

He'd discovered in their first year of co-habitation, that Ray sometimes visited his mother's street. There had been a type of gravel in the grooves of the Riviera's tires specific to her street. Present despite the attentive weekly washings and detailing of the car. The second year they were in their own house, the gravel appeared hardly at all.

 

Benton glared at the cabinet which concealed the offending Tribune and its announcement of a church wedding and a birth. The birth having preceded the wedding. Ray had a new niece and brother-in-law.

"I make a good living don't I Benny. I mean I keep you in a better style than you were accustomed, right," Ray asked as he flung open the door that led into the kitchen from the backyard.

Benton smiled at the familiar beginning to any number of conversations they'd had since the start of their relationship. He gave his expected response.

"Of course Ray."

"Then can you explain to me why the hell we don't have an electric mower? I mean we can afford that right? We don't live in the stone ages. I mean Fred Flinstone doesn't live here. Does he?"

"We've had the manual lawnmower for two years Ray." It was the one Benton preferred. He'd gotten it at a neighbor's garage sale.

"Is that bacon I smell?" Ray stepped more fully into the kitchen.

"I didn't think that you had eaten. The eggs are keeping warm in the oven."

"You're making breakfast?"

"You mowed the lawn."

Benton pretended not to notice Ray's eyes flick to the table as he stalked to the kitchen sink. He continued turning bacon in the skillet, saying nothing. 

For a moment, Ray stood at the sink, one hand gripping the edge, the other clutching the t-shirt as he stared at some point just above the faucet. When he began using his t-shirt to absently wipe the sweat from his forehead, from his body, Benton turned the fire off under the skillet and watched.

Ordinarily, Ray would have made a show of dragging the fabric across his body. Especially after the night they'd had. All teasing was absent. Benton found that unacceptable.

He stepped up to him and slid his hand over the one trailing absently. Ray's hand stilled, then slid away as Benton took over. 

"You're a good man Ray Vecchio."

"Because I cut the grass." The tiniest hint of loss floated underneath the exasperation. 

"Yes, Ray, because you cut the grass." Benton allowed his voice to slip into what Ray called 'dirty Mountie'.

As he turned in Benton's arms, the other man's hands never lost contact with his skin.

"How did this happen Benny," Ray murmured as he pressed his forehead against Benton's.

Benton's stomach flipped. Although, he had no answer for the question, no answer for how all the good that Ray had done, all the care he'd given his family, all that love could be swatted away because Ray Vecchio wanted to live a full and open life, he hoped that the moment had finally arrived that would allow Ray to admit that his family had and continued to wound him deeply. 

His professional self, the Mountie self could more than likely call up the appropriate Inuit lore that would cover the situation in optimism and hope for someday. But the self that watched that first year as each Sunday, his mate grew increasingly quiet, increasingly melancholy as the hour for the Vecchio family dinner came and went without an invitation, that self could find nothing inside that would allow him to encourage such hope.

He knew that he should perhaps encourage forgiveness, but he could hardly encourage forgiveness for something that remained unspoken. Perhaps the moment for speaking was upon them at last. 

Ray pulled a little away from him and stared at Benton for several seconds as he traced a long finger across his love's brow, his cheek, his mouth. 

"I don't suppose we can put the bacon in the oven too?" Ray asked, husky.

"It's up to you Ray. I do find that I have an appetite for something else entirely."

"Yeah I figured. You're using the dirty Mountie voice."

"Am I?"

"Yeah, you are."

Benton pressed closer so that their bodies were touching in all the places they hadn't been. 

"Without you...," Benton murmured as his lips nuzzled against Ray's temple and his arousal pressed against his hip. "My life is better for having you in it. Anyone's would be."

Ray pressed back. "You don't have to lay it on so thick. I'm a sure thing caro."

"Right you are. Right you are. So shall I just..."

Benton murmured as he tilted his head toward the stove. Catching his face between his hands, with a matching head tilt of his own head, Ray kissed Benton sweetly, then pulled away.

"Yeah, you take care of that. Lemme get some more of this north forty off of me. Meet you in the bedroom."

Benton let Ray take a step before he replied softly. "I love you just the way you are."

"Thanks, Benny." For a couple of seconds, Ray wavered at the threshold of the door leading into the main part of the house. "Thanks," he said again before pushing through the door and out of the kitchen.

The moment appeared not to have arrived after all, Benton thought as he busied himself putting away the food. He too carried the Vecchio family name. Legally, he was Benton Fraser-Vecchio as Ray had also legally altered his own name. Ray's idea. 

"I'm not gonna have some asshole intern tell me that I can't see you when you end up in the emergency room because you jumped through a window, fell off a roof or bumped your head and suddenly go blind." 

Ray was indeed a sure thing. Benton's family. He'd said to Ray once that you couldn't choose your family. These last three years he'd been proven wrong. And he would continue to stand in the gap for the Vecchios that had let one of their original number so thoroughly go.


End file.
